


Those That Wonder (Can Get Lost In Stranger Places)

by Young_and_spitefilled



Series: AusCan Oneshots [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Fight Me At The Back Of Nando's You Cowards, I'll add more tags as i go, Oneshot, Sorry Not Sorry, You Can Pry My Sons From My Cold Dead Hands, first fic, okay maybe I am
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:56:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28852434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Young_and_spitefilled/pseuds/Young_and_spitefilled
Summary: Jackson may not have thought this through. I mean he tried. He read a bit about gods and that general stuff before trying to pray for any help for his hometown.But he was never particularly good at avoiding trouble...Least of all in the shape of an annoying spirit determined to help him that no one else can see._________Human!Australia calls the spirits to help his cursed homeland. He didn't mean to actually summon a long lost god, but there you go. Spirit!Canada is just here for a Good Time.
Relationships: Australia/Canada (Hetalia)
Series: AusCan Oneshots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2115729
Kudos: 4





	Those That Wonder (Can Get Lost In Stranger Places)

Jackson lights the wick of his cheap - _and nasty_ \- fifty cent candle and takes a deep whiff of what is probably welded plastic and wax and hopes to gods he isn’t really sure he believes in that he doesn’t mess this up. He sits in a concrete and tin gazebo at his small town’s foreshore. The pebble Crete digs into his bared knees, but that’s okay. So is the way the candle wax burns his skin slightly when he picks up the candle.

What hurts is the deep hunger in his bones for food that isn’t coming.

What hurts is the fact that as much as he can see the smoke and feel it sting his eyes, he cannot taste it.

What hurts is that his uncle is stuck in a timeless storm at sea, and his hometown is cursed to live a short but eternal limbo as neither living nor dead. Unquenchable. Unreachable. Unseen, by all but mere ghosts.

His hands shake, but his resolve is firm.

Jackson wants to save his family. And the Huang family across the road. And Missus Claire who runs the IGA.

If he has to sell his soul… well, that’s what got them here in the first place isn’t it?

Because someone in town promised their hand in marriage to a witch and then married someone else. _Maybe_ , Jackson prays as he drips hot wax into three prepared dishes of herbs and what many consider common weeds, _two wrongs can make a right in this sense_.

The candle is cleared of wax to a notch the books had told Jackson to scrawl onto the side of the stick, and he carefully and quickly puts it down next to him, before straightening his shirt and pants, trying to feel more reading than he is. He waits and minute, and then two, and wishes that he could feel the cold wind that is blowing, and the Norfolk Pine needles that graze his cheeks.

He pretends he isn’t crying as he calls out to the spirits of the natural world to hear his plea.

And when the candles go out, and he cracks his eyes open, and sees that nothing has changed…

He waits a minute.

And then two.

He sniffles. Keeps watching.

Before cursing, getting up to his feet, spinning on his heel, and cracking his face on someone’s chin.

Blearily, he blinks, and realises he is on the ground, staring up at a worried but deeply humoured face.

“Oh my… _(wheeze)_. Are you okay there, kid?” A broad smile grows across a pale face.

He tries to curse at the idiot.

They laugh. “I’m sorry, what was that?” Jackson takes a deep, stabilising breath and… huh, the world’s stopped spinning. “It's hard… To take you… _Seriously_ … when you ruined my ritual… and are _**Laughing** At Me!_” He jumps up at the last declaration with a roar, before dizzily swaying.

(This dizziness is significant somehow, but Jackson can’t seem to recall why…)

“Oh, is _that_ so,” giggles what Jackson can only describe as the prettiest **_pain_ _in_ _the_ _ass_** he has _ever_ had the misfortune of meeting. “Then allow me to introduce myself, my dear medium. I am Maxim, He of The Sweet and Whispering Wind. You called?”

He, ~~the now dubbed spirit that is~~ , takes a threadbare _‘Canadian Ultimate Frisbee Association’_ cap off his head in a purposefully ridiculous bow.

“A spirt.” Jackson states blandly, taking in the lanky body, and shortly shorn hair. “ _You_?”

Maxim, or The Sweet Wind, grins something oddly wild.

“Yeah.” He states, eyes flashing behind an oddly misdirecting pair of copper glazed glasses.

“ _ **Me**_.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is installment one in a series! How did I do? Hope it doesn't suck too much but ay.  
> All the usual. Give it some criticism, tell me how to improve, and if you come up with any prompts? GO for it!!
> 
> Thanks.
> 
> (The Fandom may be dead, but my muse has decided that now is the time to post I guess)


End file.
